Would All Blacks flanker Adam Thomson have landed a blatant kick on the head
of Scotland’s Alasdair Strokosch if rucking had been allowed in the game?

It’s a moot point and one that will not be discussed at Thomson’s disciplinary hearing in London on Wednesday, the New Zealander having been cited for the offence on Monday. Pity. Rucking is the single biggest issue that would improve the game at a stroke. It might also have saved Thomson from copping a ban that is set to end his European tour no sooner than it started.

There’s no doubting Thomson’s guilt. He saw Strokosch’s red headguard sticking out from beneath a pile of bodies and couldn’t resist giving it a tap. The contact wasn’t particularly hard nor, as far as we can judge, was the action that malevolent. It was petulant and self-serving, a fit of pique by Thomson at seeing the ball trapped with a pesky Jock in the way of quick possession.

‘He had to have it your honour,’ is not the best-advised line of defence but in certain situations you can understand the sentiment. This was not one of them. Contact with the head is beyond the pale no matter what the circumstances are. And contact with the body? Well, that used to be another thing entirely. There was a time when Thomson could have rucked Strokosch. Not any more.

There was never a precise moment when rucking was deemed to be illegal. It’s been an evolutionary process. To recap for the younger generation, most of whom seem to be playing for England these days, rucking was the backward motion of the boot as a player entered a ruck to free up the ball. If an opponent happened to be lying all over it, then the contact was often with the body of that fool-ardy opponent who often came careering out the other side as if he’d just emerged from a fast-spin wash. The ball, too, would be liberated, the action would continue, fast and slick, and everyone would be happy, even the poor sap on the floor who would invariably only get a few scrapings down his body for his troubles. I’ve yet to come across a player who ever bleated about being rucked away from the ball. Never. More a badge of honour than a mark of complaint.

And yet namby-pamby administrators sought to outlaw it. It was rugby’s health and safety brigade in action, spooked unnecessarily by a few high-profile incidents in which blood was spilled and mums threatened to prevent their kids from playing the game. There was no need for such panic. What needed to happen was for that particular area to be refereed better.

One clear point of distinction needs to be made here. There is the world of difference between rucking, raking and stamping. Rucking is legal and has the aim of delivering the ball with a backward movement of the foot as a player drives into a ruck at pace, with a straight back, arms linked with a team-mate for preference and with the intention of moving through and beyond the ruck.

Ideally the ball would be left behind and there would be no contact with any bodies. If there was more of a pile-up of bodies then player and ball might be raked, again with a backward motion. The worst that might happen is a few abrasions down the body if there was contact. Opponents didn’t tend to hang around if they knew what was coming. The deterrent factor was significant.

Stamping is another thing entirely. It involves a downward motion of the boot. In essence that’s what Thompson did. There have been far more heinous examples. Think All Blacks flanker Jamie Joseph on Kyran Bracken at Twickenham in 1993. Think JPR Williams’s lacerated face of long ago. Nasty, gratuitous and unpardonable.

Proper rucking is a force for good. The All Blacks were masters at it. The Scots had their moments, too. This All Blacks side would thrive on it. Bring it back and the game would be the much the better. It might also have prevented Thomson from his moment of madness.

Roberts is no Judas

Cardiff Blues centre Jamie Roberts doesn’t owe anybody anything for deciding to move to Racing Metro in Paris. When news broke last week about the transfer there was a sense that Roberts had somehow breached a bond of loyalty in going. The Blues had stuck by him through recent injury-plagued times.

Roberts has barely recorded double figures in games for the region in the last couple of years. And now he’s off, for a reported £350,000 yearly slab of money. Turncoat? Judas? No, absolutely not.

Clubs do the same to players at the end of every season. There is no such thing as loyalty in the professional game. Commitment is another matter, in giving your all every time you pull on the shirt. Once rugby turned professional in 1995 the game became a business. A player has to look after his own best interests, just as clubs have to. It’s a two-way street. And Roberts has just gone off in another direction.

Expo gathering

There’s a great gathering of rugby folk in London this Wednesday and Thursday for RugbyExpo 2012. RFU chief executive Ian Ritchie will make the opening address to a forum that will consider both the professional and community games. Bill Beaumont, Lawrence Dallaglio, Mark McCafferty, Matchroom’s Barry Hearn and George O’Grady from golf’s European Tour will be among 40 keynote speakers.